Chapter 8

He follows that bombshell with, “I hope you like venison.”

I stumble into the dining room, where a large table is set for two at one end.

“It’s very fresh,” he goes on. “I hunted it myself during the full moon.”

I can’t get past his earlier announcement. “You did it?”

“Well, you know. The only things to do during the full moon are fuck, fight, or hunt.” He pulls a chair out for me and I sit obediently, out of habit.

“I’m not talking about the deer!” I lean toward him as he sits and for some reason, I lower my voice like we’re in danger of being overheard. “You conjured the Right of Accord? Your pack has a Right of Accord?”

He nods and lifts his hand to signal the staff for the first course. As the thralls place bowls of pale cream soup in front of us, Owen elaborates. “All packs operate under the same law, given to us by Lycaon the Younger. Didn’t they teach that in school?”

I shake my head. “I assumed pack law was just the law of our pack.”

“Hmiders for a moment. “Don toon teach chil